


Not The End Of Me

by otpfandomnerd



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Gen, Leukemia, M/M, akafuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otpfandomnerd/pseuds/otpfandomnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught between his two greatest loves; basketball and a cute boy called Furihata, Akashi was having the greatest time a 15 year old boy could ever have. Until a shocking diagnosis brought the world crashing down around him. Forced to quit playing the sport that means the most to him, Seijuro is faced with fighting the same disease that killed his mother and wondering if it's even worth it to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_History Repeats Itself (Proverb)_

_Things that have happened in the past will happen again._

 

At the tender age of 8, my mother, the main support in my life, was diagnosed with cancer, but of course I didn’t know that. I was hidden away from the reality of the situation; forced to see the world as though it wasn’t slowly shattering around me; told that every doctor’s appointment was nothing but a checkup, that her days spent in the hospital were the result of a cold. I, being only a child, believed every single word of it. I was completely oblivious. And when I wasn’t sure; when I was about to crack the code, reassuring words brought me right back to the cycle of lies.

To this day, I hold no spite for lies, though part of me does wish I knew. I feel like maybe if I knew something I could have been there for her that I would have been able to give her a proper goodbye, but still, I understand that it was for the best. That they probably figured she’d get better in no time and that they could be hidden away as a secret that would never be revealed, that perhaps not telling me would take away the reality of the situation, keeping me out of the suffering they were forced to deal with, even though with each and every passing day, she slipped further and further away but maybe just maybe she would somehow make it.

But life just doesn’t work that way, as she died three years in the ICU. Her last sight being one of her husband clutching onto her for dear life, crying, pleading for her not to let go.

After that, I was numb.

I was left in a state of grief, trying to figure out how I would possibly live through life without her. And for a while, the answer was I wouldn’t. For a while, I wasn’t the same. I was forced to live life with the built up anger and pain of her death, forced to question why the only person who’d I ever actually cared about left me. Thoughts wandered every night, bringing me back to the same depressing process of wondering why she had to go through this, wondering why I had to deal with the repercussions of her death while everyone around me seemed oblivious to my suffering, wishing that maybe I’d have someone to make that emptiness go away.

And then he came along. Life felt easier. I started looking forward to waking up, I didn’t worry about the impending loneliness that was bound to come because I knew I had him with me, that I finally had someone who loved me as much as I loved them, and it was my heaven.

I felt like I was on top of the world, the only ruler being myself. Making all the struggles seem meaningless compared to the abundance of happiness taking over. I felt whole again, I felt free. Sure, my life was still shit sometimes but at least I now had someone to help me through it, someone who didn’t judge me and loved me regardless of my flaws, a certain brown haired individual under the name of Furihata Kouki.

I began to enter my high school years, relationship still strong, and only a mildly fucked outlook for the future peaking its way through, pushing me to finally believe that that was it. That I would finally feel some of that childhood joy resurface, that I could finally start out anew.

That is until I actually started my teen years and realized that fate wasn’t prepared to let me rest, and I was once again brought forth the horrible realization that life has a lot of surprises, it just happens that some are shittier than others.

~

At 15 years old I was already planning my demise, counting down the days to when my heart would beat its final beat, when I would cease to be and leave this world, my existence nothing but a faint memory in the backs of the minds of friends and family alike.

I like to think I kept high hopes throughout the entire ordeal. That my courage never wavered, that I was positive everything would turn out fine, but that would be a lie. Honestly, Not even I could guess that something like this would throw my entire psyche off balance and ruin what was originally supposed to be an ordinary life, or as ordinary as life can be when you’re as fucked up as I am.

My story started out innocently enough.

Early in my freshman year, I went to my pediatrician for a physical. A regular occurrence I’ve experienced throughout my years Nothing out of the ordinary there, every sports player gets one, so I never really expected anything but a clean bill of health to result of this innocent, hour long exam, that is until I was called back 4 days later to do more testing.

I was told that there were some abnormalities in my last blood test that warranted a second appointment, a startling statement for anyone to hear when you throughout your 15 years of life, you’ve never once encountered this issue. Of course though, me being the person I am, put up a brave front and pushed every worry aside. Thus, I was prodded with needle after needle and sent on my way to live life as normally as I could. And for the most part, life was fine.

I went to school, played basketball, associated myself with friends, and did everything I’d been doing for the past 4 years of my life. Life was… okay. It wasn’t perfect, nor was it easy, but I was content. I was content being a teenager who finds love and deals with all the drama of realizing the world is a lot scarier of a place than our minds originally conceived. Though with every good thought comes a bad thought, the most prominent ones consisting of this constant nagging that always lingered that insisted “everything isn’t all right.” An out of place thought for someone with my composure, but none the less an understood worry. This thought soon turned into a reality, as I was called back yet again but a week later and told to bring my father along with me.

That day was anything but ordinary and what I would probably consider the beginning of my downfall.

For the next week, my life was made up of fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of why everyone around me was on edge, fear of why I was having all these tests done on me. Yet, I ignored it, as I do most things I don’t want to face. I went about my days like everything was fine, I never brought up the tests, I never told anyone that I was anything but okay, I didn’t acknowledge the statements of my peers telling me that I was off, that they’ve never seen me this out of it. I had no reason to, after all everything was perfect. I was healthy and happy and a normal 15 year old boy.

Or so I had told myself. My entire illusion of happiness was shattered the day my father and I were called back to the hospital. Upon arrival we brought into a sterile white office that reeked of a copious amount of cleaning products whilst faced with a doctor neither of us were previously familiar with. The most notable thing beside that god awful smell being the eerie quietness that left many questions floating around as we sat and waited for him to speak. And after what seemed like hours of silence, our questions were answered in a way that could easily destroy the mental state of anyone, even myself.

“You have cancer,”

I’d like to forget about the look of complete fear on my father’s face as he remembered his late wife, to forget how evil the words sounded no matter who said them _Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia_. _Cancer_. I want to forget the way my father’s voice shook as he discussed treatment plans, how distressed he looked when we were told I’d have to stay in the hospital for god knows how long while I start treatment. I don’t want to remember how sympathetic the doctor looked when we were told “ _Seijuro is a high risk patient_ ,” and “ _His white blood cell count is very high_ ,” With all these thoughts racing throughout my mind, I could have easily broken down right then and there. Instead I kept up the façade of normality, after all, it’s what I do best.

~

For me, I was less afraid of the cancer and more afraid of the treatment. In my days before hospitalization, a lot of research was done on my part. Mostly to figure how the hell I would survive the hell that is chemotherapy, but also to, I guess in a way calm my fears by knowing what the hell they were putting into my body. I found out a lot of things within blogs and articles talking about their adventures in the world of cancer and chemo, speaking of the survival stories, deaths, and cycles of grief. its said that when someone is diagnosed with cancer, much like the loss of a loved one, a patient can enter the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance. the only difference is you morn whats to come, as opposed to whats already occurred. I guess this is where you could say i started mine. stage 1: Denial.

I was under the impression that none of this was real, that none of this would happen to me. Yeah sure maybe I had cancer but I wouldn’t experience what they said about their experiences, right? After all, I was Akashi Seijuro, the emperor, nothing could pull me down, not even death. And I would think, you know, maybe by some weird chance they had gotten the results wrong, maybe I didn’t even have cancer. But of course that’s not the truth, that’s never the truth.

I knew what was happening, no matter how much I didn’t want to face it. I had a right after all, I mean I had only been diagnosed just hours before and now I was being told I was going to be put in the hospital so I can start my “Road to remission.” they may as well told me I was dying upfront instead of trying to skip over the gory details for more PG-13 ones.

I knew that this treatment would leave me a shell of my old self, not allowing me to be who I am and forcing to live inside with fear of sickness and pain. Causing me the anxiety of wondering if I was going to end up how my mother did; if I was going to die too, so telling me otherwise wouldn’t help, nor would it make me less afraid of the ticking time bomb that was my life. But still I would be told by everyone around me that everything would be perfectly fine. And I wanted to tell them, to tell everybody that that’s not how it works, I wanted to express how I felt about it but never did because I was too busy allowing everyone to talk about how they felt about my cancer, instead of allowing myself to have an opinion on the matter.

I was scared too, believe it or not. I knew how cancer could kill without any warning, how without the proper treatments, I could be dead within months. I was under the impression that even If I did get out of this alive, nothing would be fine. I’d be forced to live with the possibility of relapse, having to remember the pain I felt in my fight against this horrible disease, to remember the faces of my family that carried pity as they watched me suffer through what I could only be sure were my final moments. Those are things I’d never forget and never feel comfortable about, no matter if I lived or died.

So of course I went into the situation with uncertainty.

On the first day of my stay, I was brought into a room with a nurse under the name of Miyazaki Aya. She looked to be in her early twenties, brown hair tied up in a messy bun, and maybe a few inches taller than me. Introductions went well enough, though conversation did remain tense for a while as her first words upon seeing me were, and I quote, “That is the exact same hair color I want!” which made me question whether or not she was an actual health care professional.

Most of that day after the consistent nagging of hospital regulations and schedules and a run-down of how chemo works were explained were spent cramped up in an uncomfortable hospital chair, a cocktail of poison dripping in to my veins, surrounded by run-down children looking to be at deaths door, the only sound in the room being one of the coughs and crackles of warn down machines and bodies, Making me realize that all the TV shows and movies we see representing these kids are awfully portrayed, not allowing us to see the pain we go through to have a miniscule chance of staying alive to tell our stories.The pain that we have to deal with in an attempt to survive what we very well know could kill us.

I mean, chemotherapy was no gentle help, though whether I’d admit or not back then is questionable.

It was a constant cycle of agony that left me to live throughout the rest of my day in complete boredom when I wasn’t asleep or regurgitating more than I thought humanly possible. And in times when I wasn’t feeling like complete shit, I was answering phone calls whilst making up excuses as to why nobody has seen me anywhere in a month, to which I would reply “It’s only been three days.”

And that was pretty much my life, well for a while. I’d wake up, eat whatever I was able to hold down for more than 10 minutes, which I may add was usually not a lot-get escorted to the chemo clinic- and then get a beautiful thing called cyclophosphamide, which, if you didn’t already assume, was the first of my many treatments.

This horrendous ritual consisted of me sitting in a room full sickly children, who had probably gone through this hell a lot longer than me, for 3 hours whilst a plethora of the disgusting fluid drip into my veins, making me question whether or not the treatment was actually worth it.

Nothing was ever guaranteed in this ward, whether it was your first day in or your last day out, whether you were on remission or still battling, and I knew that. So I thought, why not just give up while I have the chance? Keep your dignity intact and avoid all the pitiful looks bound to come. Just tell everyone that I died in some cool way, make my life seem more meaningful why don’t you? And please, whatever you do, don’t make me out to be some type of saint once I die. I had already pledged in that week of diagnoses that if I somehow died and heard anything along the lines of a “He was one of the nicest people I’ve met,” from wherever the hell I was, I would rise from the dead just to call them out on their bullshit, because honestly, I was an asshole, me being dead wouldn’t change that, it wouldn’t change who I was.

Depressing I know, but when wasn’t I those days?

And yeah believe it or not, though I was in this thought process of what I would tell you was _definitely not depression_ , I had good times to, those happy hospital memories usually being filled by a group of ladies who were possibly some of the reason as to why I didn’t spiral as far into depression as I could have, not just in the beginning of my journey, but throughout all of it.

They, were the nurses of the oncology ward, or the mother, sister, and daughter, as they liked to refer to themselves as. Always getting along with everyone and all together being everybody’s favorite nurses.

This trio consisted of three women in their early to late twenties. Tanaka Chiyo, the mother of the group, Yamamoto Kayo, the daughter of the group, and of course Miyazaki Aya, the sister of the group. During that week, they made me feel like maybe I had a chance, but at the same time acknowledged that they didn’t know everything about the outcome, leaving out all the fluff for the truth. They told me this at the beginning, and it was a welcomed change. A change from all the fake optimism I’d received from my family and doctors in only a few short days, a change from all the forced smiles in an attempt to cheer me up when all I wanted to was go to sleep and pretend none of this was happening. That was probably the main reason why we all got along so well.

Kind of.

You see, they didn’t particularly like the idea of me lying to everyone, and don’t get me wrong I hated it too, but I just couldn’t tell them yet. I manifested the idea into my head that if I somehow neglected to tell everyone around me of my current situation that it would be less real. That maybe if I didn’t tell them, their source of unnecessary stress wouldn’t be from me, that I could maybe redeem myself before I died by doing this one thing for everyone. But of course, that’s a concept that many I’ve spoken to don’t understand, some have even called it idiotic to my face. And yeah, maybe they were right, maybe thinking all of those things were stupid and useless, but it never changed my opinion. If I had the choice of hiding it from everyone or living my stress through them vicariously, I would choose the ladder. After all, I’d rather the people I had left to care about be happy, I could deal with the stress for them.


	2. Chapter 2

While some people have the luxury of figuring out their problems on their own and keeping little secrets to themselves, I didn’t. Granted, my situation wasn’t exactly what one would call a ‘little secret’ and the entire business of dying isn’t exactly a calm and quiet one that could easily be figured out at one's leisure, but that wasn’t the point. The point was, I, Akashi Seijuro, was being forced to acknowledge the fact that no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many ludicrous lies I made up, I wouldn’t be able to keep this entire cancer thing a secret for as long as I had originally anticipated.

It all started with a phone call.

One Saturday afternoon, otherwise known as my fifth day in hell, or what some may refer to as a hospital, I was drawn out of the best sleep I had experienced in days by the inexorable shrill of my phone on the bed side table. An irritation none the less as I had only managed to get in 4 hours of sleep the previous night, but something I figured could easily be dealt with by a few shitty excuses, a promise of calling back, and going back to sleep before I was undoubtedly woken back up some short time later to begin what I had then come to know as my life, or lack of really.

Trapped within the clutches of what could only be described as a ‘cocoon’, I was forced to thrust my hand into the cold, hospital air in an attempt to grapple for the blaring device which, in retrospect, wouldn’t have been too difficult if I had just done the logical thing and actually poked my head out to look for the damn thing. After what seemed like an hour long battle of what I like to call ‘slap the table’ (A regularly played game during early mornings and midday naps), I was finally able to grasp the retched hunk of metal and pull it into my shelter of warmth, answering the call with the quick hit of a button.

“Who are you and what the hell do you want?” I asked; maybe a little harsher then intended in my groggy state, rubbing the sleep from my eyes with the heel of my hand.

“Well hello to you too,” a familiar, joyful voice broke through the static.

Honestly, it was my fault for not calling him in the first place. To this day, I’m almost certain that I could have kept this entire cancer thing a secret for just a little while longer if I wasn’t such an imbecile, or I don’t know, didn’t stutter in an attempt to clear my name of any preconceived notions he may have had as to why I had suddenly dropped off the face of the earth.

“Hey Kouki,” I drawled out, scratching the back of my neck as if that would somehow calm the aura of anxiety consuming my being, “What are you doing up so early?”

“Early?” he questioned, seeming to not quite understand my previous statement, “Sei, it’s 3 in the afternoon,”

Poking my head out from under the mess of blankets and sheets, I looked over towards the clock on my bed side table; It read 3:08 P.M. Figures that the one day waking up early would have helped me out, they let me sleep in. Eyes wide and mouth gaping open, I attempted to stutter out some logical response before he became too apprehensive of my surroundings. “O-oh, yeah I was just messing around with you,” I stuttered out in an attempt to cover up my mistake, “So uhm... how are you?”

A sigh could be heard from the other end of the line before a quiet voice broke through, “Sei, it’s been days since we’ve talked, barley anyone is able to get a hold of you, and you haven’t been to school in a week. I think I should be asking you that question,”

That was the conversation I wanted to avoid most. Sure, maybe I had a little bit of experience when it came to lying after doing it for a week straight, but it’s different when the guy who has been there and seen you in your most vulnerable moments is on the other end of the line, and your two choices are to have him never look at you the same way again or leave him in the dark.

“I’m fine.,” I lied. I could almost hear the raise of his eyebrow at my answer.

“Sei, I know your lying,” He said, voice conveying a mix and worry and annoyance.

At this moment, I had one of two options. 1. be an asshole and hang up the phone, ignoring any further calls for the rest of my time spent in this hospital, or 2. Be a little more considerate and make up an excuse to validate why I was fine. It couldn’t have been that hard, right?

“Kouki, It’s a cold. I feel disgusting like this and didn't want you to see me. I apologize for making you worry,” I said, trying to make myself sound as sincere as possible whilst still trying to make myself sound like... well, myself. I was fairly certain my pseudo flu story had been enough to convince the other boy and calm his qualms until an exasperated sigh broke through, telling me that if I had any chances of keeping this ‘maybe dying' thing a secret, I would need to polish my acting skills.

“Seijuro, I’m sorry if I seem pushy or something but you’re not being yourself,” the shorter male said, voice raising slightly, “You know you have a rumor mill. I mean, I’ve heard everything from death, to deportation to Canada, to you apparently being in jail--”

“I can guarantee you I’m not in jail,” I chuckled out in an attempt to lighten the mood and distract him from the situation at hand.

“Sei--“

“If, theoretically, I were in jail, I probably wouldn’t have had my phone on me to pick up this call--“

“Seijuro! Let me talk, okay?”

_So much for distracting him._

“I’m just worried. I figured you just needed time to figure out whatever for the first few days so I left you alone, but now I’m scared too,” a sigh emitted from the other end of the line, “I know I could just be freaking out over nothing, but I know you Sei, and you’re not one to just drop off the face of the earth without notifying anyone beforehand.” From across the room, I vaguely registered the opening and closing of a door, but chose to ignore it for the sake of finishing off that phone call before I turned into a stuttering ball of anxiety, or before my relationship went into shambles over a lie and some cancer, whichever came first.

I sighed, sitting up and rubbing a hand gently across my face, “I know Kouki, I know. But I’m fine, trust me. I’ll make sure to tell you when I’m feeling better so we can make up for lost time, okay?”

A pause “Seijuro...”

“I’m fine, Kouki. Don’t worry,”

For a moment, the line went silent, causing me to believe that he hung up before a quiet and sincere “I love you, Seijuro,” Broke through.

“I love you too, Kouki,” I responded, sincerity lacing every word, before the line went dead.

With a loud groan, I fell back on the bed, eyes shut tightly and an arm thrown over my face in an attempt to block out the sunlight and my pathetic excuse of an acting job. Lying to him felt like shit, it was even worse considering the fact that he knew I was lying. No matter how much of an asshole I can be, lying is not one of my specialties, especially when it involves the people I love. But that’s why I was doing it in the first place, right? To protect everyone, to keep them away from the stress my family and I were forced to deal with, or was I doing it for myself. To help bring me into a false reality where none of that was real, paying no real attention to those around me.

With a sigh, I removed my hands from my eyes and cut a quick glance over towards the door, bringing me the sight of Miyazaki staring at me incredulously, arms crossed over her chest, and foot tapping the ground in annoyance.

“A cold huh?” Miyazaki questioned, raising an eyebrow and moving towards me in a fashion that sent a chill of fear down my spine. “Now you come in,” I muttered as I sat up on the bed, staring directly at her, “before you say anything else and give me that shitty bullshit talk of how you understand, you don’t. I just, I can’t tell him yet, its--.”

The young nurse let out a quiet sigh as she sat on the edge of my bed, swapping her look of annoyance with one of sympathy, “complicated.” she sighed “It’s always the same story. The friend has their life, you have yours, and you don’t want to burden them with your troubles, so you keep it a secret. Look, I won’t pretend I understand everything, because that’s not what I’m here to do, I’m also not here to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do, but that really won’t stop me from giving you the occasional sisterly advice.”

“Look, I didn’t come here to be lectured,” I commented, leaning back slightly against the bed frame, “I'll figure it out on my own time.”

“Well still, you shouldn’t over think things,” she said, standing up to grab a tray of food from the cart that had previously gone unnoticed from behind her, “now, apple juice or orange juice?”

~

After 20 minutes of shitty hospital soap operas and an half eaten tray of food, my daily 4 pm appointment in the chemo clinic came around, or as I preferred to call it, “the sick kids gallery” The room, like the rest of the hospital, to say the least was… optimistic? Filled with murals and cheesy quotes, I felt as though I had just stumbled out of a child’s fairy tale book every time I entered the room, but really, what did I expect from a children’s hospital?

it didn’t bother me though, or I didn’t let it bother me, (Kind of). My only goal was to get in and get out without any of the questioning and stress that I had dealt with in only a few, short, miserable days. I wasn’t there to make friends or be on everyone’s good side, nor was I there to pretend that I was happy and excited for the long journey of “recovery” ahead of me. I just wanted to get everything over with, and go back to living my fairly normal life, and I had hoped that that could happen, but that’s never the case.

Bringing me into stage 2: Anger.

~

Within twenty minutes of getting settled and comfortable, I was forced to deal with what I had previously decided to avoid. She came in the form of a bald teen with the stature of an old man and the personality of a kid in a candy store. Except her candy was chemo, nothing to really get excited about if you ask me. I thought I had made it clear by my look of annoyance and glaring eyes that I had no interest in being bothered or talked to in any way. Regardless of whether it was a question or just subtle conversation, I had no intent on doing anything other than treatment in my few hours in this ward.

But obviously she didn’t get the memo.

For a good ten minutes, I felt like someone was watching me. Not an unusual occurrence, hair color gets a lot of stares, but still very annoying. I figured that if I just kept quiet and stared forward, maybe look down at my phone and fake importance, they would decide that their entire game was useless and give up, going back to doing whatever they were doing before I came around, but that’s before I got to know the terrifying creature that is Yuki.

The annoyance started out subtly to get my attention, and when I say subtly I mean loudly and obnoxiously clearing their throat whilst moving closer to my seat in the process, but I didn’t let myself give into the displeasure that was the sounds this immature _child_ was making. I’m assuming they realized soon after that their attempts at getting my attention via throat clearing was meaningless, because they soon moved to a tactic which was far more annoying. Without missing a beat. Every. Single. Fucking. Second. They would whisper 1 three lettered word, “Hey.”

_Just ignore her, she’ll stop eventually._

“Hey,” she practically shouted, making the nurse across the hall jump. Staring at me was the radiant face of a tired, boney looking teen who was acting like the best thing that had happened to her today was my acknowledgment. Still spiteful of the previous situation, I decided to stare at her with the most menacing glare I could muster, hoping to scare her in some way and put her back in her place. Instead, she smiled. Fucking. Smiled. “You’re angry aren’t you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to the right, pulling her knees to her chest, “I’m Yuki,” she said, thrusting her hand towards my general direction.

My eyes flickered from her hand than back to her face, wondering if it was actually possible for someone to be this giddy. Retracting her hand, she raised an eyebrow, “Hey, kid just because you feel shitty doesn’t mean you have to treat others badly,” She said, the joy never leaving her voice.

“Don’t call me kid,” I said, venom lacing my words as I stared forward at the white wall.

Time continued on, the only remaining noise being one of the clocks, seemingly mocking the silence that I knew would never last, and adding more suspense onto what I could only predict of what she would say next.

“You should really tell him you know,” she said nonchalantly, chin resting in her hand.

Wait, what?

My eyes widened as I stared at her, a rare look of fear crossing my features, “How the hell do you know about that?” I asked.

The smile returned to her face as she looked at me, “Nurses talk,” she stated, “And red hair certainly isn’t hard to miss.”

I had met my fair share of strange people throughout my life, whether it was my father’s business partners or fellow classmates, but I must admit, she had to be the weirdest, in the non-conventional way. She wasn’t your neighborhood loner who spent their time collecting unheard of miscellaneous items, but she also wasn’t someone you would classify under the spectrum of ‘normal’. To put it simply, she was terrifying, and someone I’d rather not spend more than two minutes next to.

I was brought out of my state of wonderment and fear by the snapping of boney fingers in front of my face, “Hey dude, just trying to give you advice, you should listen, this is some valuable stuff,” she said, nodding her head furiously as to give more validation to her previous statement.

“I don’t even know you,”

“That doesn’t matter! You know the saying, ‘talk to strangers’”

“It’s don’t talk to strangers,” I said, feeling genuine concern for the mental state of the girl in front of me.

Waving a hand through the air she diffused my previous statement, “Details, details. Besides, we aren’t strangers, I told you my name.”

With a roll of the eyes, I raised my hand to the side of my face, blocking her out of my peripheral view. I thought that maybe if I didn’t see her she’d go away, and annoy some other unfortunate victim, or at least stop talking until one of us had to leave.

“You know ignoring the problem won’t make it go away,” she said, voice full of condescension.

“How about you take care of your problems and I take care of mine, how’s that for a problem solver?” I asked, more angry then annoyed as I continued to glare at the cunning teen before me.

“Okay kid, obviously you don’t want to talk,” she said, followed by a cocky remark on my side that went ignored, “So let’s make a deal. I give you a free little therapy session, helping both you and i, because god knows I need someone to talk to besides these damn doctors, and then after that we never have to talk again.” She finished smiling cheekily at me.

The room went silent momentarily as I contemplated how this could go. I could either tell her my issues, get the annoyance and stress out of my life, than be able to spend the rest of my time in blissful solitude, living the rest of my days as the independent soul I so desired to be in that very moment. Or, I could ignore her offer, and be forced to deal with her endless nagging of what she presumably thought was helpful. I feel as though the decision choose itself.

“Nothing said here leaves this room, got it?”

“Got it! Your secrets are safe with me.” She said, making a zipping motion over her mouth.

“It’s my… boyfriend,” I started off slowly, looking around the room as to make sure no one was listening into our unwanted conversation. It’s not that I was embarrassed of my sexuality or Kouki for that matter, god no. But, not everyone is as excepting as others, and I really wasn’t in the mood for being ridiculed by a bunch of potentially homophobic ass hats in the oncology ward.

“Well why are you having such a hard time telling him? Or I guess lying to him in your case.” She asked, resting her chin in her hand as if she were thinking of something important, “not to say that I condone your lying of course.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Hey, I’m doing this for you, please refrain from becoming too butt hurt.”

I scoffed as I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back into the chair, “You’re doing this for yourself, I only agreed because that’s the only way you’re going to shut up for more than ten seconds.”

“Or you agreed because you actually want to talk about it, for what I’m assuming is the first time in days.” I didn’t know how to answer. She wasn’t necessarily wrong. Yes, part of me in some way want to talk about how I felt, (not that I'd admit to that of course) but the other half of me really though it was just a waste of time. I wasn’t some child who needed someone to comfort them when they were upset, so why the hell did I feel like I was?

"You’ve lied to all your other friends right, why is it harder to lie to him?” she whispered, her demeanor taking on a more serious side.

I closed my eyes, placing my head in my hands, “it’s different when I lie to everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to lie to them to and I really don’t want to, but there is a different dynamic to it. I mean, half of them I haven’t even known that long, and the other half I barley talk to. Kouki is right there, and I feel like I owe him. Honestly, I feel like I owe everybody.” I said, running my hands through my hair, looking at the linoleum floor, “that was stupid wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I get,” she said, resting her chin on her knees, “when I was first diagnosed, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my grandparents knew because I refused to let my parents tell them, and I thought that was the best possible thing to do, but god was I wrong.” A laugh, “I had the craziest excuses for not going to school and hair loss, I remember one time I told my entire class that I had been a part of a test trial for some type of super cure that involved me missing a year of school. Funnily enough everyone believed me, granted we were in first grade at the time…” she trailed off for a moment, seeming to remember something before staring directly at me, “I know you’re ashamed, and you’re wondering why that is but it happens to the best of us. You don’t owe them anything, just because, I’m assuming, you’ve been an asshole to all these people at one point, am I right?” she asked, to which I responded with a nod, “Kid, I have too. Even with the people I love. We all make mistakes and that’s fine. You’re scared, and that’s okay. I mean, sure you’ll get pity to but I can guarantee you right now they’ll get over it, and you’ll be so much happier for telling them, and they’ll be happier that they know.”

And there was the bombshell, the same sentence delivered to so many of us saying “it’s okay to be afraid of the inevitability of your death.” To say that maybe you won’t make to your 18th birthday but we want to make sure your personal hell will be filled with family and friends making the world seem like a little less shitty of a place while you’re still on it. I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of. It was just…. Hard. Going your whole life being told you need to be strong, that you can’t show any weakness and then all of a sudden needing more help than ever. Being yanked out your comfort zone quickly enough to give you whiplash that makes you question the reality of the situation in front of you.

“Look,” she spoke, drawing me out of my previous thought process, “I have to cut this session a little bit short, but you should really think about it,” the smile from earlier slowly returned to her face, “you’re a smart kid, so I’m assuming you already know that I’m not going to let you off that easy? I expect details of how you told all of your friends, especially that Kouki boy. Got that red?” Yuki laughed as she stood up from her seat, an unfamiliar nurse joining her side as they left the room, a line of IV’s trailing after them.

i was dumbfounded. i had been tricked into spewing my feelings to a stranger i had no intentions of even talking to, and now they were trying to meddle on my love life and friendships. i didn't need anyone's help, i could take care of myself just fine, its worked every time before so why shouldn't it have worked then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add a few notes at the end of the first chapter so here they are:
> 
> 1\. In this verse,everything is happening before the winter cup during their first year, but everything is happening so that both teams have at least played a few games.
> 
> 2\. The two personalities of Akashi are controlled as well so Akashi is oreshi, or the real him.
> 
> 3\. As you can probably tell, this story mainly revolves around Akashi's struggle with cancer and will include akafuri. though this fic does include a lot of akafuri, this is not in any way meant to romanticize cancer. such as books like the fault in our stars, the intention is to instead add some reality of what could happen, how just because something like this has happened does not mean his life has to stop.
> 
> 4\. Hospital friends. 
> 
> I also want to say with the abundance of oc's in this story, it is not guaranteed how often each one will be in a chapter, but each one is certainly important in their own way, they are just being introduced over time, or throughout multiple chapters.
> 
> Special thanks to agender-tsukiyama and everything-changes-anya on tumblr for being my editors.


	3. Chapter 3

I couldn’t take care of myself. Not in the slightest.

It had been 3 days since my previous encounter with Kouki and the creature that was Yuki, and 2 weeks since being put in that hell hole all together. Since then I had decided going along with any advice I had been given was useless, and cutting off any communications within the outside world would be the best way to go, much to everyone’s displeasure.

Put in the simplest terms possible, I had become a recluse. I didn’t leave my room much, and when I did it was usually to get treatment or to get the nurses to stop bothering me. The vast majority of the people I talked to consisted of the nurses and doctors, and occasionally my father on days when work wasn’t as big of an issue, and even then I still felt alone or out of place. I missed school, oddly enough. I missed my friends, I missed practice, I missed Kouki, and I missed my normality and my sense of control over my surroundings. I felt like a prisoner being trapped there under his will, destined to never escape no matter the circumstances. Though unlike a prisoner id have the chance to get out, with the trouble of everyone finding out of course. Honestly I wasn’t sure which I would have preferred at that point.

I didn’t want to acknowledge the existence of my now cancer ridden body, to acknowledge the fact that I was not immortal or perfect, quite the opposite actually. I didn’t want to have to go through everything id seen my mother go through or even think about it for that matter. I just wanted to forget and pretend in a state of my own solitude and shelter, were I could live out the rest of my days in a fantasy world of perfect health and only a good future to come, but I knew that was all just a dream that eventually be shot down.

I had been told this was normal response, to feel depressed after finding out something of that magnitude, and was even expected in most patients, but it still didn’t sit right in my conscious. I had noticed a few things after being in the hospital for that amount of time and that was that almost everyone id come across was happy. No signs of illness or despair lingered under their smiles and joy filled laughs. I felt out of place, and selfish. Everyone was so happy, had family and friends and were so optimistic with some on their last days, and there I was, just starting treatment and already thinking I was going to die, and refusing the time of anyone that would care if I did.

Maybe I was overthinking things, I mean I had been there for two weeks and the constant enclosure of the room must have been done something to my mental state, well that's what i continued to tell myself at least. I had known for a while that the secrets wouldn’t be able to stay forever. I just needed a little while longer to figure out what the hell i was doing. So, I did what felt best to me at the time and continued my seemingly never ending game of how long could I keep the secret before they found out on their own, or before I broke under the pressure.

~

Much to my surprise, it wasn’t my family or friends that finally brought me to my breaking point, nor was it brought forth as sweetly and understandingly as the original attempts had gone. Everyone knew by then that none of that would work on me in my state. I needed ‘tough loving’, something to slap me back into reality and bring forth the slightly more rational version of myself, a way to say that I needed to get my act together and that enough was enough, and it seemed as though one lucky nurse was going to be the best person for that job. Miyazaki was a stickler for confrontation. From what I had been told by other nurses and patients, she never hesitated to speak her mind or call you out on your wrong doings, no matter your age, or social standing Miyazaki was always there, ready to attack. i suppose you could say I learned that the hard way after her seemingly innocent questioning brought me to my so called “breakthrough” from my life as a compulsive liar.

“You know,” she said late one Monday evening during an otherwise normal IV change, “You’ve never really told any of us nurses why you’ve decided not to tell anyone yet.” Although my hatred for this recurring question burned bright, the consistency of my need to answer it seemed to burn brighter. I figured I may as well tell her, after all i had practically told everyone else in this ward, and as i had failed to see any flaws in my current mindset and reasoning, i had figured the same would go for everyone else, idiotically enough.

“I’m protecting them,” I said firmly, fiddling with the blanket on my lap.

“And who is them exactly?”

“Kouki, my friends, everyone really.” I answered, trying to best sum up my ordeal without going into too much detail, wanting to quickly stir this conversation onto another.

“And shutting off your phone is protecting…?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

“A form of it yes,” I answered with complete sincerity.

She stared at me strangely for a few seconds, seeming to wonder whether I was joking or not before speaking, “Okay?” she laughed slightly, fiddling with different instruments around the room, shaking her head in wonderment.

The tone in which she spoke sparked an irritation in me. was she making fun of me? Did she think I was lying? “What?” I questioned, wanting to know what she found so funny about my situation.

“Nothing, nothing,” she chuckled, turning back towards me, “sorry, I’ve just heard that so many different excuse stories, and honestly that’s the best one I’ve heard in a while. About the phone shutting off part, not the protecting thing of course.”

"I’m not doing anything wrong by protecting those around me," I said, irritation becoming evident as I glared at the nurse before me.

“I know, I know,” she said waving a hand in my general direction, “But really, do you think your protecting everyone by keeping something like this away from them?” she asked, gesturing around the room as to emphasize her point.

After being asked this question so many times, and making up stupid lies along the way, I had started to believe them myself. I no longer found any wrong in my answers, truly believing that they were the truth. I no longer had to think over the question, or lie to cover up my own mistakes. I had truly convinced myself of what I wanted, instead of facing reality. “Yes,” I answered truthfully shifting slightly in the uncomfortable bed, sheets falling onto the floor, “and I plan to keep it that way.”

“Well you can’t not tell everyone forever,” She said, shrugging her shoulders slightly, continuing to fiddle with the bags of medication in front of her, “Honestly this entire secret thing wouldn’t be as big of an issue it you didn’t ignore the inevitable.“

“Yeah I know.” I snapped, annoyed from the amount of times I was forced to listen to that same reply, like some broken record.

Miyazaki’s grin dropped off her face at the harshness of my tone, “Hey, I wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, no need to get upset—“

“Then i would appreciate if you’d stop mocking me when I’m trying to speak.” I said. I felt like I had no control over what I said, the irritation over wanting to hold my state of correctness brought forth an anger I didn’t intend to let out at that moment. The words just seemed to spill past my lips without my control, only adding fuel to the flames of the argument currently breaching between the one who was helping mand the fool that was myself in that current moment.

The young nurse sighed heavily before letting go of the items in front of her and looking at me, arms folded across her chest, a stern look on her features, “I’m still the adult around here, so I’m sorry if I offended you or made you upset but that doesn’t give you the right to act like this.“

I was so angered by their lack of understanding and what I, in that moment would classify as crudity. I wasn’t some child who needed to be told everything twice, I didn’t need her reprimanding. They didn’t listen to me or take the time to maybe consider my motives and how I felt. I didn’t need to take this kind of disrespect from people who have never experienced what I was then being forced to go through. People who had the audacity to say they understand when they’ve lived their whole life healthy and happy, people who didn't understand what it felt like to be told you have what killed your own mother, knowing that it could just as easily do the same to you..

“I hardly think this is anyone’s business but myself. I’m doing this for the sake of others, so—“I said, my voice raising slightly with each word.

"But you’re not doing it for them, you’re doing this for yourself! You need your friends, Akashi, you can’t just pretend this isnt happening--" The anger continued to build up as she rambled on, making me only want to prove myself more. I wasn’t an idiot, I wasn’t selfish, I wasn’t keeping my struggle away for no reason! And even if I was, why would I matter? It was my life, my decisions, my body! And they had no right to tell me what I could and could not do.

"I'm fine!" I shouted, slamming my hands down on the bed, shocking Miyazaki at my sudden change in attitude, "I don’t care about what any of you say, I can do everything just fine it’s my life my cancer--"

“But you can’t keep this a secret forever no matter how much you want to, and I’m sorry that I have to be the one to push this reality onto you but it had to happen at some point!” she snapped, moving closer to the hospital bed, “Cancer is not a death wish, nor is it some dirty little secret meant to be sealed away. And you need to realize this. You have cancer, and avoiding everyone won’t make it leave.” She pointed a finger at me, “You need to think about your well being and your life. You need a support system, and no matter how much I’d like to be here for all of you kids 24/7 I can’t. so it’s your job to acknowledge the fact that this is real and to fight this, because you can’t stay inside of this little fantasy world forever.”

Silence carried throughout the room as the young nurse seemed to realize what had just happened. I stared forward with wide eyes, shocked that id been called out on my bullshit in such an aggressive, yet sadly truthful way. Miyazaki sighed, shutting her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, “look, I’m sorry—“

“Its fine,” I cut her off, clearing my throat slightly.

“No really—“

“It’s fine,” I repeated, a little harsher than intended, dropping my voice slightly, “may I be alone for a while? If you’re done doing what you were doing?” The young nurse looked as though she wanted to say something else before deciding against and leaving the room with a nod, colleges joining her outside the door.

The room became eerily quiet as the door shut, leaving me alone to think about everything that had just happened. She was right, I knew it, no matter how much I’d rather deny it. I’d been told the same thing so many times in the past two weeks but never in such a way. Never in a way that made me actual question my morals. It was so much easier to pretend that everything was okay, to pretend that I wasn’t now one of those sick kids parents pity and teenagers prayed they’d never be, and now I was. I was scared, sure that my life would be cut short at the hands of some stupid disease that had riddled my family once before and killed to many innocent people before their time. I was stressed and alone, and too scared to do the logical thing and call someone, anyone, to tell them what was happening, to tell them I was scared, to admit I wasn’t okay.

I wanted to run away and continue telling myself they were wrong, that I’m the one that’s right and telling everyone wouldn’t make anything better, if anything everything would get worse. But now it was even hard for me to pretend. I was once again realizing all my lies, I was no longer blindsided by my own stupidity. This was reality, and now I had to face it. This feeling of guilt was finally taking over my mindset, telling me just how shitty of a person I was for lying to the people I’m closest to and then blatantly ignoring them on the cost of my fear and selfishness. At this point I just wanted to curl into myself until I eventually became nothing, maybe then I’d be able to avoid their looks of sorrow when they finally realize the reason behind all the times i’ve ignored them.

I looked over towards the silent device on my bed side table, contemplating my next move and what could happen if I possibly did it, and honestly it still didn’t seem like the best option. Would it fix anything to spill my guts to someone other than a stranger? Would I feel better, god would I make them feel worse? I knew I wouldn’t know the answers to these question if I didn’t try, if I didn’t just take that leap of faith into what could either be my misery or theirs. But was it really worth it?

Biting my lip, I quickly grabbed the device and turned it on, my phone automatically flooding with missed calls and text messages from a variety of people I had no interest in talking to at the current moment, Most of the messages consisting of the same urgency and worry.

With one last deep breath I closed my eyes and clicked on the familiar contact displayed against the screen, raising a shaky hand to my ear. Anxiety chilled my body as the line let out its shrilled rings, seeming to be deafening in the quiet, tense atmosphere. I couldn’t stop thinking that maybe I should hang up the phone and keep avoiding the underlying issue. Even though not telling them isn’t good, neither is telling them, right? I was about to shut off the device and give up on my attempt at facing my new reality before a familiar voice broke through the line.

"Seijuro!” a voice shouted, scaring me because of its abruptness, “What happened to you? Nobody could get ahold of you, you haven’t been at school--," the voice rambled on, worry evident and questioning.

_I guess it’s now or never._

An inhale, "Hey Kouki.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to finish! life has been busy and its been hard to find time to write, but now its finally up and I hope you enjoy it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thank you for reading the first chapter of my new story!
> 
> I want to address Akashi and Furihata's relationship real quick. In this verse, they began dating back in middle school. I may someday write something for that, but that's a project for another time.
> 
> Thank you to @agender-tsukiyama on tumblr for writing the description!


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